


To Sing Along With

by rk_idylle00



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Angst, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), First Love, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Heartbreak, Other, POV Alternating, POV Connor, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 19:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rk_idylle00/pseuds/rk_idylle00
Summary: *Title inspired by Sarah Kay's "The Type"*Working Title :/As if life decided to puzzle Connor more, it brought love into Connor’s life. Of course, he already knows many things about love, perhaps most things about it. How ancient philosophers like Plato approached love; the deeply rooted tradition in literature of discussing love; the history of marriage since the beginning of human history; perception of homosexuality in different cultures; the way love alters the brain; all the  chemicals released by the brain when someone falls in love; psychology of love; romantic movies, dramas, paintings, comics, song - classics to modern pop star’s composition…. Name it, and Connor knows it. After all, he was the most advanced intelligence on earth. So no one doubted that Connor would know many, many things about love. So did Connor.Except love itself: of loving and being loved.





	To Sing Along With

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends!
> 
> This is my first contribution to D:BH fandom. This fic is basically me trying to explore Connor a bit more and how androids would cope with the loss of their loved ones (and it is a therapeutic process for me, too) Since with deals with an emotional subject so please take care of yourself if you feel uncomfortable when you read this.

* * *

 

 

_I dreamt last night of a sign that read, “end of love.”_

    - Florence + the Machine, “End of Love” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Fall was approaching its end. 

It was heavy rain that remarked the ending. As if it was trying to wash everything away, it rained much; no thunder roar, but the lack of sun took away any warmth in the atmosphere. 6 mm - about a quarter inch - of rain per hour and 10m/s - about 30 mph - of wind along with high humidity. Leaves turned brown, and those which lost vitality fell to the ground with pouring rain. One could see the bare branches of a tree along the sidewalk. Hank seemed very displeased of the weather. After all, it indeed was a cold, bitter morning at the tip of fall. The two spoke of nothing, so the sound of rain hitting windshield filled the void. Soon, it would snow instead of rain, hence lack of words would remain silent. Another wind swept through trees and more leaves fell. 

Several months after the revolution, things seemed a bit more settle down. Still, obvious violence took its presence inside the city of Detroit. Androids despised human, who also despised the machine which declared itself to be alive. An android stabbed a human; A man beheaded an android with a kitchen knife; someone was found dead and had Thirium under her nail; another android found deactivated, whose Thirium pump went missing. 

In the car, Hank’s coffee seemed like the only warm thing. Hank sipped coffee through the lid. Connor remained silent, flipping and then rolling a coin over his knuckle. His processor flickered in blue, to yellow, and back to blue again. Hank spoke no words, even though he was fully - painfully - aware of Connor’s instability. It had been an unsettling time for Connor. The deviant hunter became a deviant: something that he supposed to hunt. By no choice, Connor ran away from Cyberlife and his mission which once served as his sole meaning of life. He lost that. The world turned upside-down for an android. No one to tell what his mission is. It was like telling a 7-year-old child “you are on your own, good luck.” and leaving him behind. Of course, there were Hank and other members of Jericho who offered their guidance for him; yet, finding the center of the world is not an easy task, even for a human. 

As if life decided to puzzle Connor more, it brought love into Connor’s life. Of course, he already knows many things about love, perhaps most things about it. How ancient philosophers like Plato approached love; the deeply rooted tradition in literature of discussing love; the history of marriage since the beginning of human history; perception of homosexuality in different cultures; the way love alters the brain; all the  chemicals released by the brain when someone falls in love; psychology of love; romantic movies, dramas, paintings, comics, song - classics to modern pop star’s composition…. Name it, and Connor knows it. Afterall, he was the most advanced intelligence on earth. So no one doubted that Connor would know many, many things about love. So did Connor.

 Except love itself: _of loving and being loved_. 

It was around, if Hank recalled correctly, around in the middle of winter, not so long after the revolution. Connor became deviant; he was confused but just like when Hank first met Connor, he still had much determination within him. He knew what he was supposed to do - what he _wanted_ to do. Hank felt the pride swelling in his chest every time he saw Connor. Perhaps, Hank thought, it might have been the exact same feeling seeing Cole going to the college. Connor came often to Hank when he wanted to consult with his deviancy, now which he calls emotions and accepts as part of himself. For a very long time, his deviancy terrified Connor. Now it does, again.

“Lieutenant Anderson.” Connor softly called Hank, with much hesitation. He paused until Hank glanced at him.

 “Do you think...reversing the effect of rA9 is possible?”

“I don’t have an answer for you. You know I’m pretty shitty about machines, right?”

“...I do. Sorry, Lieutenant.”

 Coin kept spinning on top of Connor’s finger. Eventually, it stopped, falling on Connor’s palm. Connor blinked rapidly a couple of times. Another report on an android case. ...a deactivated android found. No external damage but unable to reactivate. Deep inside Connor’s program, something whispered. I don’t want to do this, I have bad feelings about it. He ignored it and just told Hank that there is a new case. He heard Hank grunting.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

I remember your death.

You held my hands tightly. You wanted to say something, but you couldn’t because blood filled your mouth. I think I was crying. I could barely hear you. _Don’t cry, Connor._ You said. I knew you were going to die. You lost too much blood. I knew that. But that did not stop me from compressing your wound. You were in pain. But you smiled at me. Despite everything, I still think you were beautiful. 

After your death, I found something in my program. A void. It was like a sink, draining everything inside my program. Sometimes it gives false damage report or error message. I self-test. My sensors indicated that there is no damage on the body. System temperature was within normal range. What is this? I had to look up. So far, there is no virus or possible error that could induce following symptoms in androids: inability to process sensory information, lack of response to an innocuous external stimulus - such as someone calling my name - for short period of time, inability to suppress irrelevant logic processing, constantly looking back in certain memory. 

I have been constantly looking that your death. I analyze every detail of the situation. Blood loss, critically low blood pressure, body temperature, and how your lips whispered _I love you, Connor. It’s not your fault. (Were you scared? Because I am still terrified.)_ I know I cannot change anything. Yet, I continue to analyze the way to increase your chance of survival. When I finish analyzing, all I can think of is you. Someone that does not exist any longer. Someone that I cannot meet anymore. You taught me that to fall in love with someone - a human - is okay, and even if love makes you feel something peculiar, that is okay as well. Is this ok? 

I remember your warmth of your hand. I remember your smile. I remember your voice calling my name. But I want to feel your warmth, see your smile, and hear your voice coming out of your vocal cord, not from my memory.

I think this is an appropriate occasion to say that I miss you very much.

_I terribly miss you._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked my work, please leave comments/kudos. It helps me keep going (and so the writing)


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